qSergeant Ethan Cole didn’t like the word “hero.” To him, what he did on the battlefield was just about trying to survive and keeping a promise. A promise to his mother that he would return.
Ethan’s unit was stationed in a dusty, sweltering outpost in Helmand Province, Afghanistan. On the 112th day of the deployment, a routine patrol turned into hell. An improvised explosive device (IED) detonated right under the lead Humvee, followed by a fierce ambush from gunmen hidden in the mountain crevices.
Machine guns roared, dust flew everywhere, and shouts ripped through the air. Ethan, a seasoned reconnaissance soldier, immediately dragged the most severely wounded comrade, Corporal Miller, into a nearby fighting position. Blood soaked the dry ground.
“Miller, hold onto me! You’re going to be okay!” Ethan growled, though he himself felt the reaper hovering close.
They were completely pinned down. There was no retreat, and no timely reinforcement. Ethan realized if they stayed put, they would all die. He looked over at Miller, who was faintly whispering his wife’s name.
Ethan put down his M4, tightly gripped two smoke grenades and an M203 grenade launcher. He knew he had to do something insane.
He shouted into the radio: “I’m going to create an escape route. Everyone crawl back to the west! See you at the rendezvous!”
Without waiting for a response, Ethan rolled out of the hole, quickly crawling over the rock fragments. He launched the smoke grenades. Thick purple smoke rapidly covered a wide area. In the midst of the smoke, Ethan loaded his final M203 round, aiming at the enemy machine gun position that was suppressing them.
BOOM!
The deafening explosion silenced the machine gun. Ethan instantly stood up, running like a madman. He ran while spraying short, accurate bursts of fire towards the lurking shadows, forcing them to take cover. He wasn’t thinking about death; he was only thinking about his mother’s eyes and Miller’s pale face.
The purple smoke did its job. Ethan’s comrades began to retreat, pulling the wounded with them. Ethan ran to the blown-up Humvee, grabbed a first-aid kit, and then turned back to find Miller.
By the time he dragged Miller to safety and bandaged him, the battle was over. Reinforcements had arrived and swept away the remaining gunmen.
A few weeks later, at a military base in Germany, Ethan visited Miller. Miller was recovering well.
“Thank you, Sergeant,” Miller said, his voice hoarse, “You saved my life. Why did you run out into the line of fire like that?”
Ethan Cole smiled, a tired but genuine smile. He looked out the window, where an American flag was flying in the wind.
“It’s not about fighting, Miller,” Ethan said. “It’s about the promise. My mother said she couldn’t bear losing me. And your mother shouldn’t have to bear losing you. A soldier’s mission is not to die for their country, but to make sure the enemy dies for theirs, and to ensure his brothers come home.”
That day, Ethan Cole was recommended for the Distinguished Service Cross. He accepted, not for the honor, but because he thought it was proof to send back to his mother: I’ve completed the mission, and I’m coming home.
